


overheard your heartbeat (calling me yours)

by starklystar



Series: 101 ways to propose [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hospitalization, Hurt Tony Stark, Idiots in Love, Insecure Steve Rogers, Jealous Tony Stark, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Misunderstandings, Self-Sacrificing Tony Stark, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, tony giving steve the iron man armor because this is one hell of a rollercoaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:56:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27650339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starklystar/pseuds/starklystar
Summary: "Tony - ""I wish I could promise to come home this time," he feels the armor crawl back down his arm, continuing unnoticed over Steve's red gloves, then up the blue uniform as Tony fights to keep Steve's gaze firmly fixed on him.The last eyes Tony might get to see, and he wants to be lost in them.In the end, his entire life boils down a few simple things: "JARVIS, take care of him for me."----------Or, Tony overhears a phonecall where Steve proposes, a battle happens, and a paper ring settles some misunderstandings.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: 101 ways to propose [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1793032
Comments: 28
Kudos: 484





	overheard your heartbeat (calling me yours)

**Author's Note:**

> for the anon on tumblr who wanted tony overhearing steve practicing a proposal :)

“If you don’t want to go out, then stop making plans!” Tony yells at Steve, pulling the tie off his own neck and tossing it on the bedroom floor.

“I do, it’s just – ”

“Did a dinosaur attack Central Park?” he huffs frustratedly, pushing past his boyfriend. 

He can’t do this, not right now. 

All that would do was lead to a shouting match.

They’d agreed a few years ago to never do these sorts of talks while they were both tired, and Tony was _tired._

A shitty week on top of a shitty month.

He storms down the stairs of the Avengers Compound bare feet thumping loudly over the soft carpet Natasha had chosen. After Ultron and after they had started tracking down Bucky Barnes amidst the wreckage of the world, turning the Compound into a home together had helped soothe the tensions in the team.

The distance from the city was particularly helpful, giving them peace from the constant scrutiny of the press and the public. 

Today, with all the mess from the Secretary of Defense pushing for more oversight and Stark Industries’ clean energy contracts facing hold up, Tony is especially glad for that peace.

Today was also meant to be his evening out with Steve, but like all of their dates in the past month, Steve had cancelled.

Usually, the absence of Tony and Steve going out publicly for longer than a stretch of two weeks was enough to drive the press to intense speculation, as three years of their on-and-off dating had turned into something steadier.

Now – Tony thinks with no small amount of bitterness – at least he has some privacy in watching his relationship dwindle.

Has Steve finally grown tired of Tony?

They still do their breakfasts together, the smiley face drawn in blueberry sauce all over Tony’s face still cheeky as ever, accompanied by a heart of whip cream next to it. At night Steve will murmur a hot ‘ _I love you_ ’ between Tony’s shoulderblades, hands warm around his waist as kisses are pressed down his spine.

When Tony is forced to work in the city, Steve will arrive right around lunch time by the Tower, motorbike ready to whisk Tony away for a short, blissful break from the stuffy old men in the boardrooms.

And when Tony kisses Steve after a mission, Steve still grins against the kiss, unable to hide the clear happiness from Tony’s mere presence.

But.

The question remained: why did Steve arrange dates only to cancel at the last minute?

The excuses ranged from a very valid emergency preventing an attack on the city to a more questionable ‘ _Sam’s niece is having a birthday party and I didn’t want to disappoint her_ ’.

There were also the very strange purchases: what did Steve need a thousand roses for last week? 

Not that Tony stalked any of the Avengers – JARVIS only started flagging the out-of-habit purchases after Clint had placed the down payment for a million-dollar bouncy castle.

So. A shitty week on top of a shitty month on top of a rollercoaster life.

His boyfriend-slash-Captain-slash-bane-of-his-life was acting strangely, and he pauses in the middle of the stairs to recenter himself, chest throbbing from the exertion. 

The reflection that stares back at him from the dark glass windows lining the walls is a sad one: his dress shirt askew, graying hair a mess from the countless times he’d run his hand annoyedly through it today, and eye bags heavy as sleepness nights of fear and regret took its toll.

Creeping out from between his unbuttoned collar are the old scars from the reactor, branching out to curl over his collarbone in a grotesque pattern.

Is it any wonder Steve doesn’t want to go out with this mess?

Sliding silently down the railing, he sits heavily on the steps, shoving a fist between his teeth to stop his ragged breaths from becoming sobs.

Why can't he catch a break?

He's just so fucking tired and hungry, he wants a hug from his boyfriend and a warm dinner. 

What he doesn't want is for Steve to break up with him.

The thought is enough to make him feel sick, stomach balking at the mention of food. 

He's about to leave for the safety of his labs when he hears a woman's voice come through their open bedroom door.

"Steve, did you do it?"

Tony's heart drops. That's Sharon. 

His cousin went on one date with Steve way back when New York was still in ruins, and while Tony knows she had been among the people scheming to get Steve and Tony together, it's hard not to have a dreadful suspicion after the string of cancelled dates.

"No," Steve's reply comes, "I couldn't do it."

Creeping back up the stairs, Tony refuses to pause and think about how his life's been reduced to this: sneaking through the hallways to eavesdrop on his boyfriend.

 _Supposed boyfriend_ , an insidious part of his mind corrects.

"Steve, Tony loves you so much, he's definitely going to say yes."

The yellow light spilling out of their bedroom is almost eerie, and he realises Sharon's words are true. 

If Steve would be happier with her, Tony would let him go.

His heart clenches fiercely, painfully. 

Thankful the arc reactor's been removed, Tony presses hard against the mess of scars there, rubbing circles to do something with the pressure building up hopelessly in his chest.

"I just want it to be perfect. I can't propose when he's so tired he's about to collapse on his feet." _Wait, what?_ "But I think I made a mess of everything."

Steve's sigh is loud, which is good because it covers the small, strangled noise Tony lets out.

A _proposal?_

The whiplash of surprise and horror roots him to the spot.

Is Steve planning a proposal to _Sharon?_ Had Tony really made Steve so unhappy to push Steve into a relationship so covert? Do any of the other Avengers know about this? He's too fucking tired and heartsick to figure things out, his mind playing in agonising detail the past month.

The way Steve's smiles seemed nervous, uneasy, _uncomfortable._ How Steve's hand sometimes shook when he reached across the breakfast table to hold Tony's hand, and how quickly Steve pulled away afterwards. 

"Okay," Sharon's voice comes again, "try reading your speech to me."

"You'll laugh," Steve miserably says.

"Who could ever laugh to a Captain America speech?"

"I should start with an apology, shouldn't I? He thinks I don't want to go out anymore."

 _Christ_ , Steve sounds so upset that Tony's instinct to comfort him rears up above his own discomfort. 

Had Tony not convinced Steve enough that he loves him?

Sharon clicks her tongue over the call. "It isn't my fault that you can apparently fight wars but can't propose to the love of your life."

 _Fucking hell_ , Tony can't just stand here while Steve proposes to someone else, can't just listen to his home crumbling all around him.

Nobody ever said Tony wasn't a masochist, though, and a large part of him wants to know where he failed, where he'd gone so wrong to drive Steve so far away from him like this.

Taking a deep breath, Steve – was that the sound of paper being unfolded? Had Steve actually written the speech down? – clears his throat.

“Tony, I’ve been trying to propose to you for the past month but you just keep getting less happy and more stressed? Does _that_ work?” Steve's voice lilts up doubtfully. “Or just, I'm sorry I've been a horrible boyfriend this past month, I've been nervous because I have something to ask you?”

_Wait._

_What?_

Something catches at the back of Tony's throat, and he's frozen in the dark hallway, staring at the light of their bedroom, struggling to breathe. 

Steve sounds so sincere, so desperate to do this properly that Tony feels an echoing rawness crawl up his throat. His confusion stings against his exhaustion, sluggish mind counting the possibilities slowly.

"The second one works better, I think," Sharon answers.

"Right." And suddenly the words coming out in Steve's voice are impossible, because Tony cannot possibly be standing here listening to his boyfriend – soon to be fiance? – practice a proposal for _him_. 

His day has been too much of a rollercoaster for him to be able to handle this.

Yet, he continues to stand transfixed as Steve's feet scuffle against the carpet of their room, a familiar sound from all the nights he's had to watch Steve pace nervously across its length, anxious for news about a mission.

“Honey – no, that’s not right. _Tony_ ," Steve says into the call, and Tony's heart is beating too loud in his ears, "you’re the most important man in my life. No. That sounds like a damn romcom.” Another loud, frustrated sigh. “Okay what about this – we haven’t been at our best lately, but we’ve gone through a hell lot worse, and even in my worst moments, you knew how to bring out the best in me. No? Tony’s going to hate it, isn't he?”

_Hate it?_

Tony can’t even breathe.

Steve wants to marry him.

Him and not anyone else.

" _No_ ," Sharon empathically insists. "He's probably going to stare at you, and then kiss you silly."

Tony makes a note to send her the biggest, most overblown fruit basket. 

With flowers. And a giant bunny.

“You said everything special about me came from a bottle. That might be true, but everything happy about me came from you,” Steve tries another sentence, the words coming out slow, measured, "I always thought marriage would mean a faceless lady and a picket fence, until I met you and realised it would mean your grumpiness when I wake up too early, my stubbornness making us fight, and your bot children pestering us until we kiss again. An adventure. A promise to come home. To kiss the most wonderful man in the world good night every night - "

And Tony can't help it. 

All the stress of the past month, the worry, the fear, the doubt – the bone aching tiredness – it rises up as relief and awe and disbelief replaces them.

He clamps his hands over his mouth, but it's too late.

He lets out a pained sound, a wounded animal jerking away from the light because it's too much.

Steve's love burns too hot across his chest, and he really can't breathe, he's heaving, lungs unable to expand because _god_ , how had Tony not noticed his own boyfriend's worries?

Does Steve not know how _much_ Tony loves him?

Was Tony so self-absorbed that he hadn't noticed Steve needing him?

Would someone like that even make a good husband for Steve?

Curling away from the word ' _husband_ ', he closes his eyes shut against the tears threatening to spill there, and suddenly he hears a clatter coming from their room. 

His heart stutters again, panicked that something might've happened to Steve, but there's only a quick, "Sharon, I need to go," before warm hands fall on his shoulders, and blue, _blue_ eyes crowd his vision as the hallway lights turn on.

"Hey," Steve moves to cup the back of Tony's head, rubbing small circles at the base of his neck, "what's wrong, Tony?"

Tony shakes his head, not trusting himself to speak.

The furrow between Steve's brows deepen. Gently, Steve takes Tony's hand, thumb rubbing away the bitemarks there from when Tony had shoved his fist between his teeth. "Did you hear my call earlier?"

He should say yes. 

The truth. 

Except, if Steve _is_ really afraid that Tony will refuse marriage, shouldn't it be Tony's turn for once to soothe Steve's fears? 

Later, he can blame his tiredness for this harebrained plan.

Now, he just needs time to make a proper ring.

"No," Tony says, fighting his hardest to keep his smile from trembling. "I miss you," he gives another truth instead, "I – can we not fight?"

"Of course," Steve nods quickly. This man would give Tony the universe if he asked for it.

Tony doesn't need the universe.

"Hold me?" he asks.

Steve does.

* * *

The following morning, Tony is surprised to wake up with Steve's shirtless chest still pressed against his back. He peeks at the alarm clock on the bedside, its red letters reading out _09:43_.

"Hey, sunshine," Steve laughs when Tony pulls the blanket over his head to shut out the light from their windows.

It should be a normal Saturday morning, they have no emergency missions or unavoidable meetings, so why hasn't Steve gone for the usual morning run yet? His mind scrambles to figure out why it isn't –

Oh.

Right.

Steve wants to marry Tony. 

And doesn't know that _Tony_ wants to marry Steve right back.

"Don't you have places to be?" Tony prods, voice muffled by the blankets. His plan of secretly designing a ring won't get anywhere if today's Steve is the affectionate kind.

"I have places to be and places I want to be," Steve answers, pressing his cold feet against Tony's thighs, making him yelp to get away.

"You sure you don't have to make sure Clint isn't stuck in the dumpsters somewhere?"

Next to him, he feels Steve stiffen, amusement replaced by a thoughtful sombreness. "Look, if you're still upset about last night, I'm sorry I cancelled our date." Steve rests his chin on Tony's shoulder, leaning up to meet his eyes apologetically. "Pepper called to tell me you had a shitty day yesterday, and I thought staying in would be a better rest for you. But I shouldn't have assumed."

 _A proposal would definitely have made my day better_ , Tony thinks. 

And he realises that's what he'll start his proposal with. Because Steve didn't make Tony's day better, he made Tony's _life_ a thousand times better.

"Staying in with you sounds perfect," he replies carefully. How does he assure Steve that he loves him without blurting out ' _be my husband_ '? "Yesterday was just such a clusterfuck, I was really looking forward to dinner with you."

Steve ducks his head to press a kiss behind Tony's ear. "How about I make it up with some breakfast together?"

The ring, Tony decides, can wait.

Marriage – as scary as it can be – boils down to a promise. Together.

When put like that, Tony's harebrained plan of showing Steve how much he loves him becomes so much simpler.

"You make the pancakes, I make the coffee?" he shifts around to face Steve. "Or better yet," he presses his own kiss between Steve's brows, "we skip breakfast and keep doing what we're doing."

"And what _are_ we doing?"

The soft huff of fondness that Steve lets out is so different from his frustrated sighs last night, and Tony knows he's made the right decision. Trying to sneak away now would do little to help, so he takes advantage in the best way he can.

"This," Tony burrows his way into Steve's chest, until his cheeks press against the heartbeat there, until all his arms can touch is the vast expanse of Steve's back, holding them closer than close.

"Alright."

"I love you."

A beat of silence.

"I love you, too," the rumbling of Steve's chest ricochets in Tony's ear. "You make me really, _really_ happy."

Nope. No. No matter how brightly Steve's words flare through him, _Tony_ is going to be the one who proposes so that Steve will forever have no doubts about how much Tony wants him.

"Coffee would make me really, really happy too," he steers the topic into safer waters. 

"No coffee 'til you let me go," Steve points out reasonably, because none of the bots can be trusted to make a decent cup of coffee. 

"Worth it," Tony wraps his arms tighter around his boyfriend.

He can feel Steve smile into his hair.

And he feels his own smile above Steve's heart.

* * *

One week later – after much finesse with sneaking around and peppering Steve with affectionate gestures as a distraction – Tony finishes the ring.

He's had JARVIS save the recording of Steve's phone call with Sharon in a very, _very_ private server, and he's put together the fanciest fruit basket to give to her after Steve says yes.

All he needs to do is get through this battle so he can suit up properly to take his soon-to-be fiance on a private date. 

The Iron Man gauntlet rolls up his sleeve as he types commands rapidly into the helicarrier's mainframe, trying to stop or at least delay the sabotage threatening to send the ship into a fiery ball of flames falling down into the depths of the Atlantic below them.

His boots keep him steady when the ship shakes from another explosion, and he's pleased by his decision to play with nanotech. 

Without needing to accomodate for the arc reactor that's been removed from his chest, he's had greater flexibility in the armor design and material. If this field test proves successful, he'll incorporate nanobots into the other Avengers' suits.

This pesky problem first, though.

"How much longer, Iron Man?" Steve asks through the comms, followed by a grunt that signals he's taken out another one of the drones firing at the helicarrier. 

AIM is definitely up there on Tony's shitlist for putting Steve in danger.

"Five minutes," he continues undistracted.

"All civilians and crew evacuated. Avengers at checkpoints for evacuation."

In other words, _get on it, Tony_. But JARVIS keeps getting firewalled from accessing the helicarrier's systems, and if Tony stops fighting the flashing red code for even a second, it'll trigger all the attacking drones inside the ship to blow.

He has to be the last Avenger to leave. Five minutes might not be enough.

Without the others keeping the drones at bay, he calculates two minutes before the drones converge on his location.

"Cap," he does a few more calculations, "evacuate Avengers. Clear the ship."

"That door won't protect you from the drones, Tony," Steve breaks protocol by calling his name. The first sign that Tony's plan is going to crack, because Steve won't evacuate if Tony isn't evacuating too.

"I have my armor."

"I'm coming to you. Avengers, head for the quinjet."

There's a series of protests over the comms that Tony ignores because the end result is always Steve's orders being followed. He spells out a few commands in rapid fire, triggering override commands through the chains of drones, locking himself in a limited maneuver that requires sacrifice of the entire front hull of the ship.

His new priority is to drive the drones as far away from the control room he's in to give the distance he needs for a fair chance at getting out alive.

" _Fuck_ ," Tony curses. The red flashing letters return with a countdown to detonation that he _really_ doesn't want Steve to see.

Not much he can do – he hears Steve's footsteps thumping heavily on the metal floors and silently commands his helmet to retreat, nanobots reacting to his thoughts.

"Tony." It's unfair how Steve doesn't even sound winded from all the fighting. "What can I do?"

"Get out of here." Life liked laughing at him, and it's ironic that after a month spent worrying about Steve cancelling dates, Tony has to cancel their next date tonight.

"I'm not leaving you."

"Trust me," Tony begs him, because if Steve doesn't leave, he'll have to make a choice he doesn't want. 

There was a time when Tony was ready to sacrifice his life for the world, but now at the cusp of starting a new part of his life, his affection for Steve has made him more selfish, more desperate to stay alive, to spend a thousand tomorrows together with the man.

He should have married Steve years ago, should have asked for a kiss before shawarma, should have stopped wasting time.

The armor stands small chance of protecting Tony from an explosion this big, this close. The underarmor beneath it stands an even smaller chance. 

Tony's faced worse odds than that before, though, and if the choice is between Steve dying or not, then it isn't really a choice, is it?

His fingers hesitate over the ' _Enter_ ' key.

The only choice is how he can do this the most painlessly for Steve in case the odds don't work in Tony's favor. 

Because going down in a plane into an icy sea was among Steve's worst nightmares, and seeing Tony go down in another one would be – well.

He presses the key.

Three minutes is not enough time to run to the last quinjet.

But if he makes himself a target for the drones while he sends Steve away, that's enough time to reduce possible casualties to just one.

New evacuation plans, Tony really has to draft them up for the next helicarrier. Or better yet, get rid of these damned things entirely.

" _Tony_ ," Steve says again, now with an edge to his voice. "What's the plan?"

First, distract Steve. Second, apologise. Third, hold his breath. 

He's pretty sure that plan isn't what Steve was hoping for, but it's the only plan that Tony has which can selfishly protect everyone he loves.

"For the record, I would've said yes," Tony finally turns away from the screen. 

There's nothing more he can do to stop this. 

He'd much rather spend these last minutes taking in every detail about Steve: the ruffled blond hair covered by the helmet, the small cut on his exposed cheek – someone has to bandage that, supersoldier or not, pain was still pain – the soot-covered shield held aloft and the bright white star on the uniform's chest that reflects the light of the new reactor on Tony's own chest.

The small crow's feet at the corners of Steve's eyes: perfect marble marred by happiness. The only marks on Steve's self-repairing body.

And the frown of confusion that used to annoy Tony.

That now looks heartbreakingly endearing.

"What?" Steve struggles to put together all the pieces.

Tony gives him the missing piece with no small amount of guilt. Closing the space between them, he lets his bare hands take Steve's gloved ones. "Yes, to kissing the most wonderful man in the world good night every night."

Steve's mouth is a perfectly shaped ' _o_ '.

"Tony - "

"I wish I could promise to come home this time," he feels the armor crawl back down his arm, continuing unnoticed over Steve's red gloves, then up the blue uniform as Tony fights to keep Steve's gaze firmly fixed on him. 

The last eyes Tony might get to see, and he wants to be lost in them. 

He hates all the drama that comes with last words - hates how last words keep haunting him - but he's a futurist. Which means he's thought of what he'd say. 

In the end, his entire life boils down a few simple things: "Give Rhodey and Pep and the rest of the team my thanks for putting up with me."

Steve's eyes widen the tiniest bit, pupils large in dawning _fear_ , hiding more of that precious blue. 

It's when Steve tries to pull away from Tony's grip that he _realises_ the trap Tony has baited him into.

"Stop this," the hint of betrayal, anger, _anguish_ in Steve's voice is enough to make Tony regret it, but not enough to make him undo it. "I'll survive without the suit," Steve tries to claw the thick layers of nanobots off his arm, " _please_ , don't make me – "

 _Step two: apologise_. Or at least, do his best to keep Steve from drowning in guilt and what ifs.

"This is my choice," Tony lifts his hand to Steve's cheek, brushing away the tear that's fallen there in Steve's frustration. "It's not your fault." 

He doesn't think he can kiss Steve goodbye, because he doesn't know if he'll be strong enough to let go afterwards.

 _Thirty seconds_ , the clock in his head ticks down dreadfully.

"Please, Tony, _darling_ ," Steve clings onto Tony's hand, desperate, voice breaking. A sea of grief and lost futures crashing against Tony's cliffs of stubborness. "I love you, don't – "

"JARVIS," Tony has to say this out loud, has to know that the man he would've married will be alright, regardless of whether he survives the fall into the ocean, regardless of whether he gets to hold him again, "take care of him for me."

The helmet forms, closing shut with a click that muffles Steve's shouted protests, and in the end the last face Tony sees is his own – reflected in awkward angles across the red and gold face plate.

All of Steve's overrides fail.

The armor flies Steve away, crashing carelessly through walls to find the most efficient way out of this ticking time bomb.

_Ten seconds._

Time for one final request. He adjusts the earpiece he's wearing. 

"J, play that recording?"

It plays without any witty comment from his faithful AI, a short clip that JARVIS must have chosen deliberately because it ends just as the floor under Tony's feet disappear, the helicarrier breaking apart, dropping from the sky.

He clings to what he can – if he slows down his fall, he has a better chance at seeing his family again – and he clings to the voice in his ear, hoping against hope.

_Everything happy about me came from you._

The water swallows him.

* * *

He doesn't wake up to beeping.

He wakes up to angry mutterings that drown out the steady beeps.

"Tony, I swear to god if you make me watch you fall one more time, I'm going to chain you to bed. And the longer you take to wake up the longer I'm going to chain you," Steve's voice cuts off with a wet sniff, and there's a warm hand brushing Tony's hair from his face. "Please wake up. You can't die before I marry you."

Losing the struggle to open his eyes, Tony slips for a moment back into the dark nothingness. 

Some time must have passed because the next time he's aware of anything other than darkness, the air's gotten colder, and Steve now sounds less angry, more tired.

"It's been two hundred hours since I fished you out, Tony. DUM-E's starting to misbehave without you, and I – I found your ring, you idiot. You left it right there in your lab and your bots tried to throw it away because it made me – it made me." 

The fingers that curl around his wrist, right on top of his pulse, feel damp. Tony picks up the fight to open his eyes, because Steve crying is unacceptable. 

"JARVIS told me about your recording, and we really were a pair of fools, weren't we?"

Warm lips press against his temple, chasing away the cold for a moment.

"The doctors say reading to you might help. And since you've heard half of it already, I thought the other half might give you a reason to - just. A reason," Steve stops as his voice trembles too much. 

A shaky breath, its hot, stuttered puffs falling over Tony's cheeks.

"Wake up, _please_."

Because his eyes aren't cooperating, Tony decides to try his hand. 

_Move_ , he commands his rebellious thumb. 

Nothing. 

_Ugh_.

Paper crinkles near Tony's ear, making him pause his attempts. 

Steve clears his throat, speaking in quieter, soothing tones. There's a muffled quality to the words, like Steve is doing his best to keep himself from shattering - and _Tony_ certainly feels like shattering because he can't lie here listening as Steve hurts himself.

"I always thought marriage would mean a faceless lady and a picket fence, until I met you and realised it would mean your grumpiness when I wake up too early, my stubbornness making us fight, and your bot children pestering us until we kiss again. An adventure. A promise to come home. To kiss the most wonderful man in the world good night every night."

That last sentence is punctuated with another kiss, this time lingering over the top of Tony's knuckles.

"I can't promise to be perfect. Can only promise to try my best. And I know you also worry about hurting me, but between the two of us, you can always build us both new hearts and I can heal enough hurts for any broken feelings."

 _Oh god,_ Tony wants so much to be properly awake to hear this, to be able to hold Steve and tell him _yes, yes a thousand million times yes_.

"You make the future worth dreaming of, Tony. You make me – your bedhead in the morning, and your wit and how you hate pineapples – I can picture a thousand fights with you and a thousand nights in bed making you see the stars to get you to forgive me. There isn't a future where I'm not holding your hand, where you're not there as proof that every day is worth fighting for, when it means another morning seeing your smile and another night listening to your heart."

 _Wake up_ , Tony commands himself. 

He doesn't care about the pain, doesn't care about anything else except squeezing Steve's hand back.

He can hear Steve's hand shake, the paper wobbling with it, and he aches to reach out.

"And then," Steve says, leg bouncing against what must be the medical wing's bed, "I'd get down on one knee, and you'd call me a sap, but that wouldn't matter because we all know you like it."

For a few moments, Tony can only hear shuddering breaths over the beeping of the machines, unsteady and tired and _God, Steve._

"They can't tell me when you'll wake up. They can't - I survived the ocean before," there's a string of muffled curses. "You should've let me - you shouldn't have - I can't survive this without you."

Tony continues forcing his own weariness away. Sleep was useless. He needs -

 _Oh!_ Did his toe just move?

"I miss your smile," Steve murmurs, and there's the scraping of plastic against bare tile.

No, no, _no_. 

He can't let Steve leave like that.

The man _proposed_. He can't let something as big as that slide because of an inconvenient waking up problem.

Steve's hand is still in his, and Tony _squeezes_.

He hears a sharp inhale.

"Tony?"

One eyelid opens first – the left one – but the lights forces it to close again, Tony cringing away – _hey!_ He can move his face again.

"Oh my _god_ ," Steve breathes out, and when Tony tries the other eyelid, the lights have been dimmed so low it no longer hurts to open both at once.

He's greeted by the sight of Steve stooping over him, blurry face swimming above his own as Tony squints happily at it.

Pleasantly surprised that he isn't hooked to a respirator, he lets Steve feed him an ice cube to help with the dryness of his mouth.

" _Tony._ "

From Steve's lips, his name is half prayer, half praise, and a hundred percent admonishment.

None of that really matters right now.

"You didn't finish," Tony pushes the words past his scratchy throat, past the hazy weightlessness.

"Oh," Steve sits back down in the plastic chair. "I – you heard."

"You going to make an honest man out of me, soldier?" he squeezes Steve's hand again, weak but reassuring.

They've wasted enough time dancing around the topic.

There are bags under Steve's eyes, and the old jacket Steve is wearing – is that Tony's MIT hoodie? – has its strings fraying at the edges, and yet when he smiles, tired eyes lighting up just for Tony, he's the most beautiful man Tony knows.

"Tony," this time his name sounds loved, Steve's rumbling voice curling around the ' _o_ ' and rising up with the ' _y_ '. "Marry me, please?"

Is it even a question?

"Yes." 

"Yes?" Steve repeats.

With a sly smile, Tony burrows further into the thick blanket covering him. "You know how much I love it when you ask so nicely."

Steve ducks his head, cheeks reddening. "You're the worst."

"I thought I was the best?"

"I'm calling the doctor," Steve threatens.

Considering the full IV bag and the buzz of happy painlessness, Tony thinks they can enjoy the moment for a few more minutes.

"Don't you dare," he threatens right back, although his wheezy voice gives it little authority. "If you do, you're not getting custody over the bot kids."

Steve's laugh warms him up more than any blanket could.

"The others then, at least," he bargains with Tony. "It's been nearly ten days, and they – we watched you die three times on the way here."

 _Oh_. "Steve," Tony says, because there isn't anything he can offer except proof that he's here. "I'm sorry."

Shoulders hunched, Steve shakes his head. "Don't ever do that again, you hear me?"

"I'll be sure to put it in the vows," Tony promises easily.

Steve closes his eyes for a long moment, smile fond. "I love you."

Tangling their fingers together, Tony blames it on the painkillers when he giggles. "Do I get a ring to show off to the family?"

Steve casts around the room for an object, eyes landing on the crinkled piece of paper lying on top of the beside table cluttered with medical supplies. 

_The speech_ , Tony's slower-than-usual mind supplies. 

Deftly folding it up into a thin strip, Steve carefully loops it around Tony's left ring finger, mindful of the IV needles stuck in Tony's arm, and tucks the ends together to make a paper ring.

"There," Steve bends to press a kiss where paper meets skin, "my handsome fiance."

Tony looks down at it.

The way the paper has been folded makes it so that the words ' _come home_ 'loop around the very top.

He thinks of how Rhodey will cook chicken soup for the next month and how Natasha will sing him lullabies while burning AIM from inside out.

He thinks of Bruce sneaking him lab reports to calm down his boredom and Pepper delivering DUM-E's drawings of them all.

He thinks of a future spent waking up to that smile of Steve's, and a lifetime ahead spent kissing it brighter.

Of a thousand days tasting its sun, and a thousand more learning its every angle, and another thousand to let it mark his skin, to wash all their grief away.

Well.

There's nothing wrong with starting a little early, is there?

He tugs Steve in for another kiss.

And again.

And again.

* * *

After all, practice makes perfect.

And Tony feels perfectly home.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](starklysteve.tumblr.com) :)


End file.
